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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24248431">Short story Collection</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alixiria/pseuds/Alixiria'>Alixiria</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Bantering, Cacti - Freeform, Christmas in September, Cold balls, Lola the fat cat, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, OCs - Freeform, Other, Short Story, Terrible writing, Window, Wishing, Writing Exercise, cactus, descriptive writing, doors, oc x oc - Freeform, tattered old coat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:07:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,529</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24248431</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alixiria/pseuds/Alixiria</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicknamed the 'Travisverse' for the one who started it all, this work is full of short stories, some of them were for homework, others not, you can probably tell the difference by weather or not there's excessive cussing. Can't guarantee how often I'll write here but, if you ever got some interesting writing prompts, I'd gladly accept them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Male Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A short story which includes a tattered old coat.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Travis is rich, but encounters an existential crisis because of it. But he's rich so that's that.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The prompt for this one was: "Write a short story which must include a tattered old coat."<br/>so yeah, I did that...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>People dream about a variety of different things. Whether it be wealth, power, fame, or true happiness, everyone has something they desire deeply. </p><p> However, for someone like Travis, who had a comfortable existence being extremely wealthy, it was hard to wish about anything at all, leading plenty to become bored and lose their sense of meaning in life. </p><p> Travis had not yet succumbed to such a depressing state, and kept himself dreaming of possessing a tattered old coat. ‘Surely for someone so rich, they could get something better, right?’ you might be thinking ‘like maybe a private island, fifty-seven Lamborghinis or even a diamond-encrusted bidet’ but Travis’ wish has more thought and meaning in it than any of those possessions could (and at any rate, he had a private island, sixty lamborghinis and two diamond-encrusted bidets). </p><p> You see, as a child, whenever something Travis owned wore out, it was immediately and promptly replaced with a new model by the staff at Travis’ mansion. This meant that he didn’t have any objects with emotional sentiments to him. </p><p> He had a teddy bear he played with as a child, but unlike a less well-off person’s bear, it did not have a scar from when his mother had sewn it up after it broke, nor did it have a faint bloodstain from when he had fallen off a bicycle as a child. His teddy bear was flawless, for when it was broken, his parents deemed it too damaged and worthless to be fit for their upper-class son. Of course, if the bear was simply dirty, the maids would clean it, but the memory of a mud stain was hardly something to bond over. And like his teddy bear, everything else Travis owned was utterly new and perfect in every way. He imagined some of the staff might have repaired one of his broken toys and given it to their own children, who would have been over the moon to have an expensive toy with a minor flaw and couldn't help but feel jealous that they would still have their childhood toys, with all their scratches and imperfections.</p><p> As Travis looked around his bedroom at all his immaculate possessions, he felt detached from the world, as if he had no souvenirs or memoirs from his childhood, as if he had no roots. He envisioned what it would be like to own a tattered old coat. Perhaps it would be his great grandfather’s, and had been passed on to him when he could fit into it. It would have the seams from being sewn and repaired whenever a tree branch had snagged it, or the cat scratched it. It would feel rough on the outside, like the coat of a wild boar, but soft on the inside from being carefully patched up by generations of caring mothers. It would have a slight, stubborn, and unrecognisable odor that just wouldn’t wash out. When he would wear it, Travis would be filled with a sense of pride for owning this unique,sentimental article of clothing. </p><p> He internally cursed the wasteful practices of his parents, and the dread it was now causing him. He stood abruptly from his bed and bolted towards his closet,desperate to find something sentimental and important to him. He pushed aside the racks of clothing to find the stacks of boxes he knew would be lurking behind them. As Travis meticulously emptied the containers, he was confronted with piles upon piles of miscellaneous objects. After he held the last empty box in his hands,he took a deep breath and turned to face the pile of objects he had summoned, and as he did so, clarity struck him like an angry toddler.</p><p> These objects, ranging from childhood toys to pictures, despite their relatively new condition, these objects still caused memories to flood his mind. Memories, he realized, didn’t reside in scratches or stains, but rather were triggered by the sight of these objects. Nostalgia flooded the vessel that was his being, and he smiled contentedly. He relived various moments in his life, all from the comfort of the floor of his closet as he retraced the steps and refilled the time capsules of his childhood, he had in a few hours accomplished a new sense of fulfillment and an identically clean closet.</p><p> As Travis settled himself back into his bed, the stupidity of his previous despair dawned upon him, and caused him to feel copious amounts of embarrassment. He internally vowed to think with his head rather than his heart and perhaps drink less whiskey to avoid spending so much time dwelling in the past. </p><p>  It also dawned upon him that he should perhaps book a therapist, seeing as he could definitely afford it. But that was an adventure to take on sober, and also at a better time than
two thirty-five in the morning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Formatting in this one is a pain on the ass and I'm not even bothered. I didn't know ao3 formatting when publishing this, but it got better in the next one.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. '...that's why we have to leave all the doors open' .</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elijah and his partner, Fergus  face a temperature-related dilemma within their relationship.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I got a prompt from: https://writingexercises.co.uk<br/>It was, well, the title.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>'Fergus close the damn door, I'm freezing my balls off here' is a sentence you'd need context for if you weren't here right now. But you are, so there isn't a need for such a silly thing.</p><p>'I love you but I can't do that' replied a boy with short. fiery hair poking out from the bottom part of his bed as he laid diagonally on it, leaning one ankle on the nearby nightstand. Elijah never like him having his feet on the pillows, so he avoided them. An exasperated sigh came from beside him. Elijah was about to stand but in one swift motion Fergus sat up and tackled him.</p><p>'The door stays open' he stated, matter-of-factly. Elijah squirmed under his boyfriend.</p><p> 'and why might that be?' He questioned. 'Do you wanna fuck me over or something?!?!'</p><p>Their conversation continued in the dimly lit room, who's status as 'Chilly' remains heavily debated. 'No but we can't close the doors' </p><p> 'doors?!? As in DOOR-Z, PLURAL! Oh my fucking god...'  He ran a manicured hand through his dark hair. 'Remind me why they have to stay open...?'  he asked in a notably lower voice than before. He's working on controlling his anger, and his therapist says he's been doing good in that regard. </p><p>The response he was given was paced swiftly 'our apartment is small enough already without sectioning it off like this! And opening and closing doors is an unnecessary inconvenience and we could save so much time by just omitting that from the equation. Not o mention the fact that germs can gather on the door handles, ESPECIALLY of we have guests...an...and...um...uh...that's why we have to leave all the doors open' He took a deep breath 'Except of course the kitchen since Lulu has no self control' </p><p> 'I swear that cat's such a couch potato' Elijah murmurred. </p><p>'I know, right!? And the balcony because obviously! An...and...um...come to think about it, I guess there can be exceptions, and a lot of them, too. We can close the door, love'</p><p>  'YOU can close the door' He corrected. </p><p> 'Hah, fair enough! I will' </p><p>Once Fergus returned to bed, his partner embraced him and spoke 'The door thing, it was one of those 'finding-something-you-can-control-when-you-feel-out-of-control things, wasn't it?' </p><p> 'yea...' </p><p> 'You know you can talk to me about things like that, right? It would save us a whole lotta time and effort, more than the damn doors ever will, and besides, I worry about you sometimes, you bottle things up so much...' </p><p> 'I know, I know, I'm...I just thought nevermind...' Elijah pulled his partner closer. </p><p> 'what's up?' </p><p> 'It's just work... You know how my boss is...' </p><p> 'I swear that bitch is more stuck up than the veronicks' </p><p> 'Veroniques... Like that Travis guy who did that charity thing the other day?' </p><p> 'Yeah, it was probably a PR thing. No way someone with that much money hasn't been tainted by it' </p><p> 'and like there's so many things he could've bought instead of fancy cars. Where's his creativity?! I mean he could buy the best recipe for grilled cheese out there! Think of the sandwiches! ' Fergus declared passionatly.  Elijah yawned. </p><p> 'Maybe he could also buy a good night's sleep' </p><p>'if we're going THERE he could buy a state-of-the-art ball warmer' Fergus rebuked. Elijah swung his leg over his partner's waist.</p><p> 'Already got one' </p><p>There was a silency lasting for a few minutes before anyone spoke.<br/>
'how're your balls?'<br/>
'Toasty. Goodnight'<br/>
'nite'</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Travis' parents are called Renée and Lincoln. Not sure if I'll write about it or not, since to me Travis is kinda like a one trick pony, but I came up with the names in an earlier draft of the story. It was most likely a classic 'Rich girl falls in love with slightly less rich boy (probably a celebrity) and they live snobbily ever after'</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Descriptions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What do cacti look like? What's outside my window? Who cares! I'm telling you anyway</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ayyyy time to publish more English homework no one asked for!</p><p>Not a short story but who cares? Certainly not me. Not much anyway. <br/>O<br/>~N<br/>T<br/>~O<br/>*T*h*e*<br/> D e s c r i o t i o n ~ </p><p>Trigger Warning: simile</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cacti amacti:</p><p>The cacti were long and straight, vaguely cucumber-like in shape and colour. They stood tall and proud, as if unashamed of the violent nature of their small sharp spines. The needles stood in orderly rows like a well-diciplined army. These plants were the freeenest of the few present in the desert. Maybe they did have something to be proud of.</p><p>WaVinG tHrOUgh A wiNdOW:</p><p>Gazing from behind the thick, glossy glass, one's gaze lands on a starless sky, pitch black, with a light gradient to a navy hue. In contrast to the blank sky, on the ground was a green field framed with trees, next to a stone wall concealing a house. From behind the window you can see slightly into the house's garden. It, for reasons completely defying logic, contains Christmas decorations.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>True story, my neighbours are whack</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This will probably be more useful as an archive for short stories that ISN'T Google docs, rather than something people read and I'm ok with that.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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